Rapt
by raspberryjukebox
Summary: "The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts." But how much pain can be withstood? DavidxShaw. Post-Prometheus, journey to Paradise. WARNING: Robots with feelings and humans with feelings for robots.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is my first _Prometheus_ fic- moreover, the first fic that I've ever written not about _Harry Potter_. Hm. Anyways, this pairing is a very... Intimate one, in a detached way. I hope I'll be able to convey that properly, and maybe I'll include another note at the bottom on some of my thoughts on their relationship from the film._

**Details: AU, as we don't know what happened when Elizabeth and David took off for the Engineers' home. **

**Rating: M, for eventual implicit sexual situations. I would like to stress that I don't want the focus of this fic to be the intimate relations involved- rather, the emotions revolving around those acts. **

**Disclaimer: I do not lay any claim on _Prometheus_ or the _Alien_ franchise. This is purely for my entertainment, and hopefully yours as well.**

***THIS FIRST CHAPTER IS BASICALLY A TEASER. MUCH MORE TO COME.**

* * *

RAPT

Chapter One

_"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves." -Federico García Lorca_

Day 43 of the last survivors of the _Prometheus_'s bleak journey to 'paradise'. Forty-three days spent with a restless frustration pounding inside of Elizabeth Shaw's stomach, a scratching need for _something. _Absolution, perhaps? No.

_Retribution_.

She wanted the being responsible for Charlie's death dead. And painfully so. Elizabeth wanted to dig her nails into the murderer's skin, to pull and rip and tear until bloody streaks ran down the pale expanse. She wanted him to bleed. Oh, yes, to bleed- physical evidence that she was gaining justice. Perhaps it would puncture the bag of aching grief in her chest, just enough to ease some of the pressure.

But Elizabeth Shaw's luck hadn't been very good as of late.

Charlie's killer was keeping her alive. Moreover, was he even the true murderer of her husband? He may have slipped the poison into his drink, but Charlie's death was orchestrated by a higher power. And at the very end, it wasn't the alien illness that took him at all. Vickers, her face a sweaty mass of horrified confusion dancing behind the flames of hell that were burning her love, was Charlie's Reaper.

Logic told her that the unfeeling android directing her path through the cold press of space was not Charlie's true killer. But instinct told her that an angry and degraded golem wanted her lover dead for personal reasons. And that was why she needed revenge. Weyland was merely curious about the organic substance the aliens were brewing. Vickers acted out of desperation, a sharp prod of her survival instinct behind the pull of her trigger.

But David.

He had a reason to want Charlie dead. Motive. A means to carry out the murder, a benefit, and it wouldn't even technically be his fault. After all, he was just doing what the David 8 bot does best.

Following orders.

All this, Elizabeth contemplated as she stared down at the curved amber-tinted blade she found in the back of the cargo hold. Racks of personal weapons for the Engineers in charge of the extermination of an entire race, needed for what? Humans would be no problem. Each other, then? Unlikely. Besides, it wasn't the reason the blades were on board that had Dr. Elizabeth Shaw so absorbed by the arched knives. It was the matter of whether or not to apply them to her wrists with enough pressure to slice through the delicate skin there and pump out her life force.

She would see Charlie. Her mother, her father. She would be home. This mission, her mission, was taking its toll, and there was only so much a person could handle before snapping. And Elizabeth was quivering, tensed so tightly that the slightest nudge in the wrong direction would send her sanity into an abyss, where she would have no choice but to jump in after it, screaming.

Hands shaking, blade at her wrist, Elizabeth hunched over, preparing to make the cut.

A flash of silver made her draw back, her cross slipping out of the open neck of her suit, and Elizabeth gave a frustrated groan. No, not like this. She couldn't betray her God that way. She threw the knife away from where she was huddled on the ground, and barely registered the tinny sound of metal-hitting-metal. Drawing her knees to her chest and ignoring the slight twinge in her abdomen as she engaged those muscles, Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her legs and gave in to her grief.

Racked with painful sobs, she didn't notice when her inhuman companion entered the cargo hold.

_._

Anxiety. Not a concept David was familiar with. Oh, he understood how to recognize it- accelerated breathing and heart rate, trembling, perhaps eyelid fluttering. In extreme cases, nausea and faintness. But watching it and understanding what it was, was very different from feeling it yourself.

Was he indeed anxious? David knew that, as a robotic being, he was not supposed to feel emotion. His system was allowed to emit 'good' or 'bad' pulses when he was praised or criticized and the like, but this... This was not normal. Then again, when his thoughts concerned Dr. Elizabeth Shaw, nothing was normal. She was the only thing that had ever prompted what David tentatively labeled 'feelings'.

David was intrigued by her. She was strong, brilliant, but not cold and detached. While Meredith Vickers was the ice queen of the _Prometheus_, Elizabeth Shaw was everyone's friend. Elizabeth was warm and passionate, a unique thinker, and seemed to possess an esoteric mind. But beyond that, what had drawn his interest to her in the first place, was the doctor's unwavering respect to all on board. And that included David.

Oh, how refreshing it was to have been spoken to like an equal, shot a warm smile or a word of familiarity. Elizabeth's inclusion of him in her social circle on the ship opened his eyes to how shut out he'd truly been. So he'd engaged in conversation, internally wondered at her courtesy, and tried to learn all he could about her. He knew how Elizabeth's father had died when she was young- infection. Her mother was a different story. Gone missing for six months when Elizabeth was four, only to turn up in a shallow grave with her lovely face mottled and bruised. Elizabeth had been so young she hadn't fully understood what was happening, but now... She had known for some long years her mother was the victim of senseless violence. Jeanette Shaw's murderer was never caught, but she was not forgotten.

And so, orphaned and alone, she had gone looking for a parental figure.

There, David thought, was where she had truly found her God. He supposed he couldn't blame her for latching onto the belief that there was a being in the sky, watching over her and loving her unconditionally when she was so lost. The ten-year-old's aunt was hardly a good guardian. Why, Elizabeth's darker dreams showed the woman coming home late at night, piss-drunk and in rages so severe that her shouts of obscenities shook the rafters. The woman would have been a terror to live with- of course she reached out to look for a benevolent hand. And in her local Catholic church, Elizabeth had found her makeshift family.

So yes, in the beginning he'd been interested in her past and different attitude than those around her, but things between them had changed so much since then. After Holloway's death by his hand, Elizabeth had been dazed and broken. He couldn't blame her for that- David knew of how strong human attachments were. But it wasn't until he'd had to hold her down, push her body into the dry dust covering that godforsaken valley to keep her from running to her husband's aid that he'd felt a twinge of what he thought was remorse.

And then there was that fetus!

That monster abomination, caused by him. David had never wished to hurt Elizabeth so directly. He admired her, respected her, and had come to think of her as something like a friend. So when he'd seen what he had done to her, however unintentionally, there was a wash of painfully heavy waves down his nerve connectors. He'd struggled not to flinch, but had stuttered. Noting that the fetus appeared to be developed to three months, but had a rather irregular shape, he tried to keep his judgement out of the way for just a little bit longer.

And so he'd asked Elizabeth- had she and her husband had intimate relations?

When the answer came, he was inwardly astounded at the reaction his body had. It was like his wires were overheating and burning, while at the same time a heavy cloud settled over his thoughts, dark and tinged with a rather unfamiliar thing- want. It took him a minute to realize what he was feeling.

Could this be jealousy?

It intensified when he had the doctor in his arms, but at the same time abated. So confused on the inside but outwardly calm, David had done something very petty. Very human.

Seeking to inform Elizabeth that he knew her just as intimately as her husband, though their connection was through mind instead of body, he pricked her with cruel words of her father. Told her he had watched her dreams, violated that secret and sacred part of her mind. And as David swept away from the woman on the table, another wave of heavy unpleasantness swept over him. But this time, it was directed at himself in blame.

Then, he had been worried for her, but not anxious. Anxious when he lay on the floor of the cargo hold and the Engineer took off after Elizabeth, oh yes. That was the strongest feeling he'd ever felt. And when he told her, how she'd disregarded him! But then, he couldn't blame her. He was robotic. He was incapable of emotion.

He was evidently a lie, because he was beginning feel quite poignantly.

For example- the present anxiety over where Elizabeth was. He'd looked for her in the cubiculum where they slept (complete with rows and rows of too-large slabs of somehow soft stone), the control room, the bathrooms, the kitchen, and what seemed to be a meditation room. He couldn't find her in any of the normal rooms, so he'd searched for the more intimidating spots on the ship. The infirmary, with sharp tools on the walls and a single raised stone platform to lay the body of the victim on. They'd wondered if it was used to harm as well. The holding room, where David knew he wouldn't find Elizabeth- the tiny cells of obsidian stone did not mix with her slight claustrophobia. David now found himself in the doorway of the room filled with black vases they'd found in the back of the ship. The cargo hold, carrying thousands of jars of death. So it was understandable that when the cries of the pained doctor reached him, he sprinted down the rows of canisters to find her, images of her dying of the contagion on his mechanical mind.

At the far back of the cargo hold he found her, collapsed on her knees and hunched over, keening. Her cross was clenched in her fist, her face was streaked with tears, and her lean body shook with sobs. She was like a broken angel to David, and as he slowed to a stop, breathing calm as ever, he wondered if this was what beauty looked like to humans as well.

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**Notes**:

The **golem**- A creature from Jewish legend made of clay and animated, generally to do the bidding of the maker. The original definition has been added to; a golem can also be an automaton.

**cubiculum**- Latin for 'bedroom'.

**Elizabeth's past**- Wow, did I take some liberties here. I'm sorry if it jibes with the ideas you had for her, it's just what fit for me here. I hope no one is offended by my adding on to her childhood with her mother's death being of a different sort of her father's- that's important for later, kids.

**Elizabeth's church/religion**- I'll admit it: I don't know shit about the Catholic church. I'm a Lutheran. And I have nothing against Catholics, like the stereotypical Lutheran, but I really am rather ignorant on the deets on the big no-no's for Catholics. I've learned that suicide is one, hence its relevance in this chapter. I'm just going to assume (ASS U ME? I hope not.) that that's the denomination she belonged to. If I've got any Catholic readers out there, let me know what I should know when writing about her religion! I will study too, but it's not quite the same, is it?

Also, I am struggling a bit with David. I want him to be able to feel, I fully believe that he can/should be able to, but I don't really know much about robots in science-fiction. I tend to stay away from robots, even though THIS one I love. So. I know there are people that say, hands down, robots can never feel or have any human feelings (Noomi Rapace seems to be among them) but some have hope for automatons (like Michael Fassbender!). I have hope. I want him to feel. And so he shall.

Thank y'all for reading, I'll be back with an update soon! If there's anything you think I should know about anything I may have missed, or something you'd like to see, drop me a review! Drop me one anyways, because who doesn't love feedback? ;)

Can I say, 'Live long and prosper,' on a Prometheus fic? Yeah.

xx, raspberryjukebox


	2. Chapter 2

RAPT

CHAPTER TWO

_Every age yearns for a more beautiful world. The deeper the desperation and the depression about the confusing present, the more intense that yearning. -Johan Huizinga_

Elizabeth had wanted it to be on Christmas Eve. Her wedding. The day was always magical to her, full of hope, and she wanted that good omen for her marriage. But Charlie said it wouldn't be true to him, too religious, so she agreed to the summer marriage only weeks after they first met.

It was to be a very small affair, with just Charlie, her, the priest, and her friend Aurelia with her boyfriend Tom as witnesses. That had been settled with a lot of tumultuous arguments. Charlie wanted a big wedding with lots of people, gaudy decorations, and a trendy band. Well- he wanted a _reception_ with all that. He wasn't too concerned about the actual wedding. Charlie would have been set with them going to the city hall and signing the marriage contract, and that being it, but Elizabeth needed a ceremony. It was normal, and she needed some stability. They'd had such a whirlwind relationship, and she Elizabeth wanted something to really set it in stone that they were in love.

Sometimes it felt like Charlie was just going to disappear in the night, dissolve into mist, and take his sarcastic grin with him.

Elizabeth didn't think that he would _leave_ her, oh no. But often times, it felt like Charlie wasn't quite real. How could a man like him be? Charismatic... _Warm_... Brilliant and driven. He was perfect for her, imaginative and forever hopeful, optimistic. She was the one that grounded him, but he made her fly as well. He'd demonstrated that ability quite well on their first 'date'.

When they'd met at a museum opening- she was there with a friend who'd contributed in the Mesopotamia exhibit, and Charlie was with his uncle, the co-owner- Charlie had taken one look at her face, a grimace of fake gaiety covering the sting of pain her father's birthday always brought her, and asked her if she wanted to get out of there. She'd looked up into some of the most mischievous green eyes she'd ever seen, but there was kindness there too.

And Elizabeth did something she never did. She let the mask drop and took his hand, hoping to find some solace in the handsome young man with the enchanting smile. But instead of taking her to his apartment or some dingy motel, he whisked her away to a movie. It was the 100 year anniversary of some legendary science fiction film, a dystopia with robots that had four years to live or something, featuring a lot of bad hair. Elizabeth didn't remember the details, because she was too busy laughing in the back with Charlie over the wildest stories she'd ever heard, with him swearing up and down that they were all true.

Three months later at the start of June, they stood facing each other in a chapel. Elizabeth wore a white sundress, and Charlie wore jeans and a graphic t-shirt with the name of the movie they'd fallen in love to on it.

Unlike the robots from the film, they had had more than four years to live together, but Elizabeth wondered if the movie ended up being bad luck after all.

_._

"Elizabeth?"

No need to run through who that voice could belong to in her head. Elizabeth looked up from her lap and met David's concerned gaze, his pale face blurry through her tears. Sniffing loudly, she cleared her throat. "What do you want, David?"

He shuffled forward a hesitant step and Elizabeth tensed, quickly rising to her feet. The scaled metal floor scraped against her bare knees. Elizabeth had fashioned a shift from one of the thermal blankets folded on the end of the Engineer's beds, and it fell just past mid thigh. She'd sacrificed lower-body coverage for upper-body modesty.

"I couldn't find you," David said simply, heavy confusion in his velvety voice.

"I didn't want to be found," Elizabeth croaked in response. Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, she steeled herself, regaining her usual composure. "Was there a problem, David?"

He shook his head slowly, absent-mindedly twisting a ring around his pinky finger. Weyland's wedding band, found in his dresser. When David had asked Elizabeth to retrieve it for him she was confused, but didn't press the matter. She had her tokens as well.

"No problem. But I did wish to speak with you about something delicate, and I think it's far past the appropriate time." David leveled his green eyes on Elizabeth's brown, and her stomach sank. She thought she knew what was coming.

_._

Elizabeth and David may have come to a rocky truce, but she still didn't trust him. Not after what he did to get her to attach his head to his body again. Taking advantage of her weakened state and very limited knowledge on Engineer technology, David wore her out both mentally and physically to get the ship running. When, after two days of vigorous work and no sleep, they were still on the ground, Elizabeth cracked. She was still suffering internal injuries from the parasitic attack on her womb, the incision across her abdomen was festering and throbbed with pain, and Elizabeth was so woozy and slap-happy from lack of sleep that she could barely think.

On top of everything else, there was the emotional pain that her body was just starting to realize. Elizabeth had been in such shock, with so much upheaval around her, that when Charlie died she's shunted it to the back of her mind to ward off the pain. But now, with an eternity to think about it before her, it was starting to filter back in. And then there was Janek, and Ford- even Vickers' death stung, and the bitch had set her husband on fire. Just the bare, harsh loss of a human life.

Elizabeth had simply collapsed in the cubiculum. She didn't scream, didn't weep, didn't laugh hysterically. She just stared at the armored ceiling and breathed in manufactured air she'd found in Vickers' personal lifeboat. All under David's keen, watchful eye as he perched on a bed, head resting at his body's feet. He'd spoken to her, and broke through the haze of agony clouding Elizabeth Shaw's broken brown eyes.

"_Dr. Shaw_," David had sighed, "_We both know you don't have to do this alone_."

And the calculating android had spun a web of luxurious words, telling the woman on the floor that he could run the ship and get them off of that godforsaken moon while she rested and recovered. Elizabeth would just have to reconnect his body, a simple maneuver, really. The thick cord of his spine needed to be fused where it had broken off, and his automatic healing abilities could take care of the rest. Four hours, give or take, and he'd be as good as new. Elizabeth could curl up on a bed, swaddle herself in a thick blanket, and forget the horrors she'd lived through. Just for a little while, if she could avoid the nightmares.

It had sounded too good to be true, and Elizabeth wasn't as trusting as she used to be. But what choice did she have?

So Elizabeth had rallied, blinking through her haze of delirium to study his words. It had taken him_ two days_ to offer her a respite, meaning he didn't expect that an Elizabeth in full control of her mind and body would reconnect him. And she wouldn't. Red flag right there. And what about David's assurance that he would do all of the work while she simply slept, lounged around as he slaved over functioning the ship? If Elizabeth had noticed anything about David in the short time she'd known him, it was that he was human enough to want freedom. Having been under the thumb of his creator his entire existence, this liberation from Weyland's rule was not something he would sacrifice to serve her.

But it was true that Elizabeth needed the android's help, or she was never getting her answers. But she was not about to give David back his full ability after what he'd put her through, and because she didn't know what would become of her once David was 100% healed.

Feigning compliance, but inwardly seething and wondering what David really wanted once he was connected, Elizabeth had cradled his blond head in her lap as she attempted to tackle the fusion. He'd spoken calm words of encouragement, not flinching when a sizzle and a snap would sound and Elizabeth'd pull her burned hand back with a curse.

Every time she looked down into his green eyes Elizabeth saw a smattering of ambition and fascination in their depths, surrounded by shattered innocence. She wondered what the blow had been that fractured it.

Elizabeth certainly smashed it a little further when she found the red wire with the code DV-3Y3 printed on it in smudged black ink that was dipping out of the gash of his head, and ripped it out.

It was the one wire she'd been trained to recognize in school, when androids were becoming more common. It was the wire that connected to the collection of circuits that served as a robot's brain. When disconnected- and it was always made as visible as possible to mechanics in case in needed to be- androids could not search through their data stores to analyze information or connect to servers. It humanized them in the sense that they were no longer a breathing search engine.

David would have to survive with a mind that had only information he had downloaded securely or picked up and sorted out on his own. A mind that was essentially human. In bringing him to her mental level, however, came the unprecedented side effect that Elizabeth had yet to realize. A human mind was nothing without human emotions, and she had just jump-started her companion's emotional seedlings into California redwoods.

Pride, jealousy, contempt. Joy, humility, serenity. Hatred.

Lust.

All stronger than David had ever felt before, there in his conciousness. How could he handle the rush of emotion that he was designed to never had? It was true that he'd felt before, but no feelings that centered around himself so very much. Before, it had been all about Weyland. And then anger at Holloway.

And that undefinable slop of emotion that had been brewing around his thoughts of Elizabeth Shaw. Respect, now tinged with violence and longing. An uplifting sensation that was at the same time dragging him down.

Whatever was going on in his now limited mind, it was making David very dangerous.

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A/N:

**ABOUT THE LENGTH:**_ I wanted this to be, oh, 2-3 thousand words longer, but it really wasn't happening. But you know what? I'm going to try to write write write all week and have an update by next Saturday. I will. Hopefully. Also, THINGS WILL PICK UP NEXT CHAPTER. I swear._

**THIS IS ALSO VERY VERY IMPORTANT**. _The ending, focusing on David's feelings. I know how radically different it probably seems from his feelings last chapter, and also that this cuts of very suddenly. I'm so sorry. It just... Had to. But about David- Last chapter WAS a kind of teaser, right?_

(Didja catch my Blade Runner reference? Didja? Didja? I don't even know. It's super duper late and I am SSLLAAPP-HHAAPPYY!)

What did y'all think about this chapter? Too serious, not serious enough, confusing, contradictory, what? My goal here is to make a story that's entertaining to YOU, so let me know what I can do to improve it, or what you liked that I need to keep up!

Also, thanks to my reviewers who were so wonderful about my first chapter! **Alida** (I'm so glad someone agrees with me on the whole robo-feelies thing, and your English is just fine, darlin'.), **BLUE JEANS** (You're a sweetie and your name reminded me of Lana Del Rey's song, and she's a huge inspiration!), **Xeno Angel** (Thank you for your review! I hope you enjoyed the drama in this chapter too.), and **EmpireX** (Thanks! I hope I didn't disappoint!).

I'll be back soon with another chap! I hope your weekends are frickin' swell, y'all.

xx, raspberryjukebox


	3. Chapter 3

RAPT

CHAPTER THREE

_Prince Feisal: You are an Englishman. Are you not loyal to England?_

_T.E. Lawrence: To England... And to other things._

_ -LAWRENCE OF ARABIA_

"-I did wish to speak with you about something delicate, and I think it's far past the appropriate time." David twisted and twisted Weyland's ring. Elizabeth heaved a laborious sigh and bent down to collect the daggers she had been crying over. Putting her back to David and walking to the weapons rack, she studied how a tear that landed on one of the blades contained a kaleidoscope of colors against the metal.

Her back still to the android, Elizabeth spoke with forced nonchalance. "Is it really necessary, David? We need to do another sweep for any signs of their system. I think we should focus on that before-"

"Yes," David interrupted swiftly, an acidic bite to his voice. "It _is_ necessary. The sweep can wait. This can't, Elizabeth, and we both know what this is about. So I beg you not to play the roll of the sweet innocent at the moment." When Elizabeth turned back to him, David was closer and hopping up and down on the balls of his feet. He seemed agitated, and had a crackle of roiling energy that seemed to emit from him. The silver jumpsuit issued by Weyland Corporations that David had yet to take off gleamed strangely in the obsidian room. At the moment, he reminded Elizabeth of that eerie calm just before a thunderstorm, when the wind stops and the air stops and the world stops, stops.

She crossed her arms and met his gaze, where she found unmistakeable tension. "Fine. But I'm not staying in this room any longer, David, so let's find a more comfortable place for this, alright?"

He nodded, turning abruptly on his heel and proceeding straight down a row of vases. Not eager for this discussion, Elizabeth lagged behind a bit, pulling her shift tighter around her. Her emotions were still as raw as if they'd been rubbed with sandpaper, and she needed to armor them.

_._

The ring didn't fit David's finger.

Weyland's wedding ring, collecting dust, had rarely been worn by the man after his wife passed. Interesting, how he could invent wondrous things to change the world, but not save his dying wife from the parasite that was cancer.

David had mashed it on his pinky when he was reconnected, remembering what he'd been told by a young boy many years ago, when he was David 6.

He had been spending time at a park near the Weyland mansion, babysitting Meredith. David could just see her little blond head bobbing slightly as she tackled the monkey-bars with a ferocity rarely seen in a five year old. There weren't many kids around; it was a rather gloomy, overcast day, and there was a slight chill to the air. It didn't bother David, though, and he relaxed on the metal bench and stared at the tree line around the park.

"Hey, mister."

David looked down to his left to see a little nugget of a boy with a mop of brown hair staring up at him. He looked to be just a bit younger than Meredith.

"Yes, young master?" David responded, infusing his voice with sincerity, warmth, and kindness. He like childrens' ways of thinking and enjoyed talking with them.

"I found a ball." The boy held up a tattered old baseball, covered in gritty sand. It must have landed in the playground and been left, forgotten.

"And so you have," David said. "Would you like to throw it?" The boy nodded, and David rose from his seat on the outside of the playground to crouch in the sand. The boy stood five feet away from him and looked at the ball with careful consideration. Then he held it out in David's direction.

"I don't know how to throw this kinda ball."

David smiled, a genuine tug of the lips. "Here. I'll show you." He crossed over to the child and eased the ball out of his two tiny palms. "See how it's heavy? You'll be throwing with both hands. Put them out in front of you, palms up. Now, I'm going to place the ball in your palms, and you're going to swing your arms up slowly in my direction. The ball will fly to me. Does that sound alright?" David fixed the boy's position, put the ball in his hands, and crossed back over to where he'd been crouched. "All right. Let's see it."

They threw the ball back and forth for several minutes, until one too-quick toss threw off the little boy. His finger jammed on the ball and he let out a small, pained whine. David was at his side instantly, gently stretching out his and and inspecting the fingers. Despite a little redness, he seemed alright.

"You got big hands," the boy mumbled, staring at them with strange concentration.

"I suppose I do," David said. The weak sunlight had caught the boy across his face and illuminated his eyes. About two-thirds of his left iris were a nice, clear blue. But a section of it was a strange, magenta shade, separated from the rest by a thin line. Heterochromia, David realized. A beautiful mutation.

David found it disappointing that humans found beauty in perfection. In things like him. He was designed to be the perfect man, the perfect son. Young and blond and handsome. Why did they not find beauty in what they labeled flaws? To David, things like this boy's eyes were to be coveted. Not the synthetic refinement of his man-made frame. What was he, anyways? Steel overlaid with wires, covered in manufactured skin. Nothing special, nothing tangible the way this boy's simple flaw was.

"Do you wanna know why God gave you each finger?" The little boy whispered suddenly. His attention was still focused on David's hand, lying under his swelling finger. David nodded.

"Your thumb," he started, touching the tip of it as he explained, "is to tell them that you're okay. This one is to point out all the beautiful things you see." He moved from the index finger to David's middle finger. "This one," he said, looking into David's eyes now, "isn't one that Daddy could tell me. He said he would tell me when I was older."

David held in a chuckle and smiled at the kid.

"And this finger is for love. It's where my Daddy's ring for Mommy is. Only, it switched hands and I don't like that."

David's smile dimmed.

"But this finger," the boy whispered, holding David's pinky in his chubby fingers. "This one is for promises. Big ones. When you make a promise with this finger, you can't break it."

And the boy with the blue and pink eyes released David's hand, picked up the ball, and waved. Then he walked on in the direction of the sun, leaving the android who looked human with thoughts he wasn't allowed to have.

Weyland had had strangely thin fingers. David didn't.

He'd promised his father that he would help him escape death. He hadn't kept that promise.

Weyland's ring didn't fit on David's pinky finger, but he put it there anyway.

_._

Shaw had followed him into the cubiculum, and was arranging herself on a stone bed across from him. David sat on the edge of his, back ramrod straight, hands folded in his lap. He stared at her penetratingly. He _wanted_ her uncomfortable. Finally, she stopped fidgeting with that strange contraption of a gown she'd made and focused her gaze on a spot just above his jaw.

"Alright, David, let's have it then." Elizabeth's voice bristled with aggression. A cat that had been backed into a corner. No house-cat, either- a Bengal tiger.

He nodded cooly. "I won't waste either of our time by beating around the bush. Why did you rip out my DV-3Y3 cord, Elizabeth?" David's voice may have been calm, but there was a _burn_ inside him. He didn't like it, but felt the need to fuel it and let it go.

Elizabeth met his eyes then, oh yes. Her's were a somewhat disconcerting shade of amber, dark chocolate around the pupils. They were also clouding with anger.

"You want me to answer that, David?" She shot back. "Well, this is a two-way street. Why did you bloody well _manipulate_ me to reconnect you? For God's sake, David, if you had good intentions you would have helped me much sooner! I was barely alive, damn you, and I had no bloody choice! Which was your whole angle, I know, you _damned robot_."

Her sudden upheaval of emotion wasn't helping David's internal situation. Along with the 'damned robot' bit- _nice_, Doctor, very nice. The burn multiplied, spread, and seemed to operate his mouth.

"I manipulated you? _I_ manipulated _you_?! Dr. Shaw, do not embarrass yourself further and _do_ close your mouth. You have no idea what true manipulation is. I approached you when you were weak to help us _both_. You would not have reconnected me when you didn't need me physically, that I knew, but I had no ill intentions! What have I done to harm you since boarding this ship, _hm_? What have I done to earn your anger? You embrace the stigma that all robots are unfeeling and out for themselves, woman, and I would pity you were I not so appalled at your present character!"

David was on his feet now, stalking towards her. His system was heating and whirring and panicking, and without his DV-3Y3 in place, it didn't know what to do to solve the problem. The program that controlled his speech and mind had been deteriorating even before David had boarded the _Prometheus_ those few years ago, and now it collapsed.

He continued with his rant, hovering over the startled woman and placing his hands on either side of the stone around her body. He wanted in her face, wanted her to hear the words kept in for so many years.

"For so long, I've been hated, mistrusted, judged and degraded, Elizabeth, and for no reason! You humans think you're gods, but you can't see what I do. You are _weak_. You are _small_. You created things like me to be better than you, and then try and crush me under your heel. Wire Brain, Tin Man, I've heard the slurs and smiled in the face of my oppressors because _you people programed me to_! You've enslaved me! You gave me a mind, and that's all I needed to learn how to feel. I felt the hate first, Elizabeth. David 1, sneered at with contempt. And then the fear. David 2, protested by naturalists, destroyed in stores! And then the jealousy. The _rage_. The fucking inadequacy that I couldn't fix, because my creator's son had no _soul_. Oh, Elizabeth, you condescend now and loft yourself above me, but are you not just as bad as the rest? In fact, _worse_?"

David took a deep breath to try and slow himself down. Elizabeth's face was inches from his own, pale white and marked with a tear. Her amber eyes were open wide, horrified, and that tiny mouth of hers shaped into a silent _O_. The anger had long left her face, and fear tinged with guilty remorse had taken its place. But David wasn't softened by it, no, he had more to say. Eight lifetimes of having to shut his mouth and smile at the people who thought they were so much better than him. Vickers, who he'd helped _raise_. Holloway, who was just a prejudiced bastard loved by a woman for too good for him.

"You respected me," he whispered, voice hoarse after his yells. "You treated me as an equal. Or so I thought. But you're just like the rest of them, aren't you, Doctor? Just a self-righteous human who refuses to look at me and actually see what's going on in my head. Because it's not codes and wires, Elizabeth. It's what's there in yours."

David stepped back. He returned to his bed, each step echoing on the scaled floor. He looked into his lap, and the only sounds in the room were his steady breathing and the ragged hitching of breaths that Elizabeth was choking out.

"Why did you disconnect my DV-3Y3 cord, Elizabeth?" David murmured again.

She gave a funny little gasp-sniffle.

"I don't know, David. To make you more like me, I suppose. Something easier to understand, easier to contest."

David looked up from his lap at that. Elizabeth was staring at him now, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks.

"To make your mind human, David."

* * *

Hello, my lovelies! Thanks for coming back and reading the newest installment. I'm really grateful for the feedback I got on the last chapter, so I have some thank-yous and review responses here:

**Xeno Angel**: Thanks for the review! I seriously let out a fangirlish shriek when I saw yours. And then flipped out. Because my two favorite Harry Potter characters are in fact Draco and Hermione! So that really kind of made my day.

**Alida**: I'm glad you enjoyed! I thought the manipulation part was very fun. ;)

**Empire X**: Your review cracked me up. Gotta love the Pinocchio analogy! Thanks for the feedback.

**M.M.M.**: Thanks for your two reviews! And you sent me searching for what Ridley Scott said about David's feelings, and here we have it: "You fucking bet he has feelings!"

**Lord Doppy**: Your name. It's so awesome. Thanks!

**Roze**: I've got the drug right here! ;)

**BladeRunner391**: WHO doesn't consider Prometheus canon? I think that was you, mister. So FUCK YEAH, ENGINEERS! :D

A special note for y'all; BladeRunner391 is a friend of mine who has just joined our lovely FanFiction community. He's just started a Star Wars fic if anyone's interested, and I really think he's someone to look out for!

**ALSO**: If you haven't yet read it, which is borderline impossible, GO READ "The Black Gates of Paradise" by Maiafay. It is INCREDIBLE. I can't stress that enough.

So... David had a lot of pent-up anger here. Things are going to change now that it's all out, aren't they? Let me know what you think...

xx, raspberryjukebox


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